We got into my car and sped toward the nearest animal hospital. The biker—his name was Robert, though his friends called him “Nomad”—never stopped whispering to the puppy. “You’re safe now, baby girl. You’re gonna be okay.” I watched him through the rearview mirror, a man who looked like a storm on the outside, yet carried a heart made of light. When we reached the clinic, the vets rushed her inside. He stayed in the waiting room, silent, staring at his hands like they were shaking from more than just fear.